Vexillum

Peter Parker was exhausted.

It's that time of year where every student turns to live solely off of caffeine and desperation.

Exams. Days and Days of exams.

So for the last few weeks Spider-Man has been put on hiatus in favour of studying for the upcoming tests. It's his first year at his new college, his first official exam period since graduation, so he has to give it his all. Show that he has a reason to be studying here.

Sadly enough, giving his all means not only neglecting Spider-Man, but also Peter Parker. 

And so, although it has only been a few weeks of intense studying, Peter has stretched himself thin. At this point, he almost wouldn't be surprised if he passes out while studying, again, only to not wake up the next time. 

He can simply feel his body giving up on him. But although the student has an IQ of 250 and is therefore well into the genius range, he doesn't give a second thought as to why he is feeling so dreadful. instead chalking it up to typical exam stress, something all his peers are going through, right?

Peter Parker has stretched himself thin, by every sense of the word. 

Over the past few weeks he has put sleep to the back of his mind, instead slaving away over his textbooks with off-brand energy drinks by his side. 

Which happens to be the main source of calories he consumes these days.

Simply said, eating is taking too much time. There just is no time when he has all this information he needs to stamp into his head, quiz himself on and then double check. Food just isn't in the picture, not in his mind and not on his haphazardly outlined daily schedules. 

It's a miracle in itself if he allows himself to add a shower to the list. Mostly because he promised Aunt May he would visit every weekend.

Tomorrow the exams start, maths first, so Peter stands up to switch his biochem textbook for his notebook from his maths and calculus classes.

Not that he remembers that when he opens his eyes again.

He's on the floor, his old desk chair toppled over beside him. Quickly blinking leftover white spots out of his eyes he takes a look around, wondering how he ended up on the floor. 

His vision feels zoomed in and overly sharp, more so than he's used to, but despite that the confused student can't find a clue as to how he ended up on the floor. 

That's when his stomach decides to remind him, grumbling loudly. The sound makes way for sensation and Peter grasps at his stomach, holding it tightly. It, for lack of better word, simply hurts. Hunger gnaws at his inside, searching around for any leftover scraps of nutrition. 

And so the youngest Parker makes his way up from the floor and makes his way into the small kitchen for a meal. 

All he's greeted with is a pale sticky note with stark writing on it. 

'Don't forget to stock up before start of exams!'

Behind the note are two ten dollar bills, both held together by an old magnet that's chipping away at the edges, betraying its previous use for when his aunt would leave money on the fridge in their apartment.

Peter however simply sighs and opens the fridge. He misses his aunt, but the need for food is quickly winning over those thoughts. He's surprised that he remembered to hang up a reminder for himself but it doesn't do much for his current state. In hope of whipping something up for himself he peers into the fridge, already thinking of how he's going to survive without sustainance between his exams.

The contents of the fridge make it all even harder.

Hastily he opens the other cabinets, all of them giving him the same result. Empty. There is literally nothing left in the kitchen for him to eat. Which isn’t unusual with his aunt's cooking skills that he enherited, but sucks nonetheless.

Peter groans loudly, realising why he left the money with the note. He would have to go out and buy something for himself, if he's smart, also breakfast and the snack for between his exams tomorrow.

He contemplates for a brief moment, his brain urging him to go back to his room and continue studying. The test is tomorrow. what if he missed something, or worse, forgot.

but his body quickly wins over and he reluctantly reasons that if he wants to ace his exams, he might need to be physically up for it too. And so he makes his way back to his room and prepares to make a quick run to the store.

His desperation to continue learning is still fueling him as he shrugs on the Spider-Man suit. Swinging is faster than walking after all. He quickly webs his backpack to his body, stuffs the money inside and leaps out of the window. 

***

it happens as he's walking back. 

Spider-Man is dragging himself through the streets, slowly making his way home. He would have swung but his body protested on the way to the store, and as the smell of food hit him inside it seemed to simply give up. He barely made it to the cash register with his chosen prizes before having to sit down for a moment and chug a can of soda he just purchased. 

it might have been smarter to buy something quick and easy, something he could fuel himself with on the walk back, but those foods are usually more expensive, less nutritious and would leave him unsatisfied. Thus he thought to do the smart thing and buy things like eggs and ingredients for pancakes to not only sustain him for the night but the morning as well. That really has come back to bite him now.

He's almost halfway home when the unmistakable sound of glass shattering rips through the streets and alleys of New York. 

If he was in civilian clothing he might have had an excuse. A reason to continue his trudge home. But no, he thought to be smart and quickly swing to the shops and so he's currently clad in red and blue. 

Sighing, Peter hides his bag in a shadowy alley corner and heads in the direction where the cries for help came from. His quick errand just became a whole lot longer.

***

It's an attempted jewellery robbery. The suspected owner is cowering in the corner, probably having stayed late to count out the books if the amount of paper and receipts around him is anything to go by. There's glass scattered everywhere, reflecting ominously in the half moon's light. 

Most noticeable of all are the two armed men looting the cash register.

They're both wearing a black beanie like you see all the bad guys do in the movies and Peter briefly wonders if they forgot to cut out eye holes because it seems they haven't noticed him yet in all his bright red and blue glory. 

The whole situation is almost a routine kind of take down. Get their attention off of their nefarious goals with a quip before disarming, webbing up, get NYPD in on the scene and comfort the civilians involved before fleeing the scene. 

Or at least, it should have been routine. 

He quipped his earlier thought joke about the eye holes in the mask before retrieving their guns and webbing them to the ceiling for the police to find. The robbers looked simply dumbfounded even through the masks, staring daftly at the ceiling. That's the moment he usually engages in combat. This time though, this time his entire body follows his first step forward pitching him straight to the ground.

His head is too fuzzy to stop the fall.

He doesn't end up passing out but through the blurriness he's aware that he's out for the fight. Luckily, that's when the cops burst in. 

He doesn't know how they got here, he sure as hell didn't call them in, but gods is he glad to pass over the responsibility. 

Through hazy pointed vision he watches as the police apprehend the masked men and another checks on the store worker. The fearful man is pushed in Peter's direction, the sidelines so to speak, so there's room to cuff up the two men before leading them out the building towards the cars. 

Spider-Man hastily rises to his feet, he hasn't been able to help. He barely knows any information, didn't see or do much before his body decided to give up on him but there has got to be something that he can do to help. 

The moment he's standing up however, the fuzziness in his head intensifies and his legs start to shake like a newborn deer. 

An arm wraps around his middle, supporting him. Peter forces himself to look to the side and is met with the concerned face of the other man. His eyes are drawn to a golden tooth. It takes another moment to realise he can only see it because the guy is speaking to him. 

 "-lright, this just won't do. Spider-Man, can you hear me?"

He faintly registers the words and manages a meagre nod. The man nods back, steadfast and far from the fear he displayed earlier. "Are you good with coming over for a bit? Think I got just the thing to fix you up."

He must have nodded again because he's led outside the shop to the apartment next door. A jingle of keys, creaking of a door and then he's sitting on a pristine white couch. 

He gingerly lays his head on the backrest and allows himself to close his eyes for a moment. 

A bit later he's blinking up at a plate as white as the couch that's being hovered above his head. 

"Told the coppers about the guns you err, seized , while the eggs were boiling. Nothing better to get your energy up than a hearty place of english breakfast food. Including a cuppa of course."

There indeed is a steaming cup of tea on the small table in front of him which he almost yearns for as he absentmindedly accepts the offered plate. It's filled with toast, eggs and sausage. 

"Let me know if you happen to be allergic to any of it, or perhaps vegan or vegetarian. I'll be sure to give you something else but I suspect this is the best cure for those shakes you've got going on." 

"I- this is all for me?" 

The man laughs in return, a polite sound in a somewhat posh way. "Surely so. A man performing such activities needs to properly be nourished."

"Thank you, sir. This is amazing." He smiles after lifting his mask to his nose, showing his gratitude before practically shoving a bit of toast with eggs in his mouth. 

It tastes a bit like salvation. 

The older man seated in an expensive looking chair grabs his own cup of tea from a side table and generously douses it with milk. Peter watches him curiously while chewing on his first meal of the day. 

"I don't mean to pry but, are you British?" he hesitantly asks.

"Didn't take much to deduce that, did it? But yes, I am. Moved here eighteen months ago to expand our jewellery business. Been doing fairly well so far, tonight discounted obviously." 

Doing well seems to be an understatement based on the lavish lifestyle and furnishing in a moderately big apartment next to a self-owned store building. But he leaves the matter be and instead grabs some cutlery to start on the sausage. 

"Tonight might not even be that big of a setback, thanks to you, just some extra work hours it seems. I'm very thankful." 

"Oh!" Peter hastily says, swallowing his bite. "There's no need to thank me anymore. This is more than enough." he gestures to his half-eaten plate with the fork. 

"Glad to do something back for a real superhero. I am curious however about why this is what I'm in need of helping you with."

"I suppose I've been just a tad too busy." Peter admits sheepishly. "Didn't have time for a couple of meals. Finally went out to get some food but heard the glass door shatter before I could make it home." 

His face pales instantly. "Oh my gods, I bought food. There's no way it's still there after this amount of time." whipping his head around he finally spots a grandfather clock. 12:17 at night. The realisation that the store's closed sets in and so he will need to go out again in the morning to buy a cheap breakfast. Does he even have any money left?

"Not to worry! Spider-Man will not be going hungry anymore if I have got any say in it. I assure you there will be a, how do you say, goodybag for you when you've had your fill here."

"I couldn't. This is so much already."

"Absolutely not. See it as a completion to my show of gratitude for not only saving my business but also my life. Let me return a bit of your generous help."

All he can do is nod while finishes up. He goes to stand up to bring the dishes to the kitchen but is instead directed to the cup of tea in front of him.

They talk for a small amount of time. They haven't got much in common but Peter can tell both of them are in need of a calming conversation to process the latest events. 

Not much later he's being waved out the door with an unnecessarily expensive grocery bag in hand. He sleeps peacefully. Well fed and well rested he aces his exams, helped by the snacks Mr. Johnson, the man from last night, packed for him. 

***

When he walks into the cafeteria for lunch he spots the news reports open on everyone's phone. A new flag has been added to the superhero support system. Yellow, for places offering free food and beverage to keep New York's protectors energy up whenever they needed.  

It's a fast success. When Peter finally walks out of school and changes into the suit Spider-Man is met with an astonishing amount of yellow flags. 

Grocery stores, bodega's, high star restaurants are all adorned with the yellow sign. 

It doesn't end there though. Over the next few days more and more yellow flags show up. Not just on food establishments but mostly on family homes. 

People who are unable to help as therapists or first aid finally got an opportunity to offer something in return for the heroes' help. A bit of food and a sugary drink they can miss. And so the office that reviews applicants for the flags is overloaded once again by citizens requesting a yellow flag. More than needed actually. 

And so because most of them decided to stock up on some food they had to get rid of it again. 

In the end the streets weren't just decorated with different coloured flags- mostly yellow- now they also adorned free food boxes for all. The houses with a yellow flag have been investigated to always have safe food available for superheroes, but those without have crates and bags filled with unopened groceries for anyone in need.

In the end not only costume-dressed hero's or busy students are well fed, but so are the homeless and poor. 

That makes all of it worth it to Peter in the end.